


A Will To Survive And A Voice Of Reason (I'll Be The One To Protect You)

by Ricechex



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: AU, Human Sherlock, M/M, Semi PWP, Supernatural Elements, Werewolf John, Werewolves and Vampires and Witches Oh My!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-03
Updated: 2013-09-03
Packaged: 2017-12-25 04:23:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/948592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ricechex/pseuds/Ricechex
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I despise being known as your pet.”</p><p>“And I despise having to track down rogue vampires to get you out of trouble.”</p><p>“Oh you act like you didn’t have <i>any</i> fun.”</p><p>John glared at Sherlock as they entered the tube station, then cracked a smile. “Maybe a little.”</p><p>******</p><p>Written for the DashCon Author Auction. Prompt by Lapus, who prompted smut and Werewolf John. I hope you enjoy this one!</p><p>Thank you for supporting DashCon 2014! Hope to see you there!</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Will To Survive And A Voice Of Reason (I'll Be The One To Protect You)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lapus_Lazulli](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lapus_Lazulli/gifts).



For a mundane, Sherlock certainly had no shortage of supernatural troubles.

“You know, if you’d just keep your trap shut for once, we wouldn’t be in this mess.”

“Oh do stop whinging, John, I need to stake him.”

John growled, shoving Sherlock out of the way. “Just let me, you prat.”

Sherlock sighed as he moved away, watching the still form of the vampire on the ground. “I can manage it.”

“And yet.” John straddled the vampire’s stomach, stake tip pressed hard against his ribs. The creature beneath him moaned, but made no move to stop him. In one swift move, he shoved his weight onto it, sending it plunging through ribs and heart. The vampire lurched, eyes popping open one final time before rolling back into his head.

“Did you get the heart?”

“Wha-yes, of course I did!” John put his hands on his hips and glared up at Sherlock.

“Are you certain?”

“Unbelievable.” John pushed up to his feet, wiping his hands on his trousers. He hated vampires on principle - and they were none too fond of him and his kind, so it was no skin off his back - but killing them still felt… wrong. He was a doctor, after all, no matter what happened to him with every half-moon.

“There’s nothing wrong with being thorough-”

“Sherlock, I’m a fucking _werewolf_ , and a _doctor_ , and you think I can’t manage to find the heart in a vampire?”

Sherlock picked at his fingernails. “You’ve been wrong before.”

“ _Once_ , _I was wrong once_ , and that-”

“Wasn’t your fault, yes yes, isolated dextrocardia, I recall.”

“Shut it, Sherlock.” John grabbed the small tin of lighter fluid he kept in his pocket as Sherlock pulled out a book of matches. John doused the body and stepped back, watching Sherlock light the entire book and toss it onto the body. Flames shot up between them, and John wrinkled his nose.

“Gah, vamps stink. Come on, let’s go report this, and go home.”

Sherlock watched the flames a moment longer, then nodded. “Think we’ll need proof?”

John snorted. “If she can’t smell the ash and filth on me, she doesn’t deserve to be queen of the hive, Sherlock.”

Sherlock chuckled. “True.”

John smiled as their shoulders brushed while they walked towards the main roads.

 

* * *

 

“And he has been dealt with?”

John gave a low, impressive bow, tugging Sherlock down with him. “He has.”

The woman - the vampire queen - sitting in front of them stood. John straightened, kept his eyes averted. He may not like vampires, but he knows better than to start a fight with one of them in their home. That goes at least quadruple for the _queen of the hive_. He didn’t fidget, no matter how badly he wanted to.

The queen came to stand in front of him, looked up at his face and smiled. She was young - too young, too beautiful, too childlike in fact - but when she smiled her fangs gleamed, and John kept his gaze on them instead of her eyes. He was impervious to her hypnotic gaze - and hey, if lycanthropy couldn’t get him _some_ kind of defense against the other bumps in the night, what good would it have been - but Sherlock was not. Sherlock was also not prone to listening to a word John said, but he would often do as John did.

It was one of his only saving graces in moments like this.

The queen closed her eyes, inhaled deeply through her nose and exhaled through her mouth; sickly-sweet breath too cold to be comfortable as it flowed over John’s face.

“Yes.” Her voice was so soft, John doubted even Sherlock - standing close enough that their arms touched - could hear it. “I smell his death on your hands.”

John gritted his teeth. “Yes. Yes, I staked him.”

She opened her eyes, smiling again. “Then the debt your-” she glanced at Sherlock. “- _pet_... has incurred, is considered paid.” She turned quickly, paced back to her seat and slipped into it with that inhuman grace that John had never mastered, and that Sherlock somehow had in spades.

“Thank you.” John bowed again, pulling Sherlock down with him, and turned and walked away.

“I despise being known as your _pet_.” Sherlock was growling the moment they were safely back outside.

“And I despise having to track down rogue vampires to get you out of trouble.” John shook out his hands, which had wisely been clamped tight behind his back as they’d been in the hive.

“Oh you act like you didn’t have _any_ fun.”

John glared at Sherlock as they entered the tube station, then cracked a smile. “Maybe a little.”

Sherlock smirked.

 

* * *

 

“Fuckin’ hell.” John stretched as he walked in the door of 221B. “I could sleep for a week.”

“No, we have to look into that witch Lestrade called about - he’s convinced she’s guilty, but I have my doubts.”

John sighed. “Right. Cancel the whole week then...”

“Plus we need to check the local demon activity, I think there may be a connection to the triple homicide from three days ago.”

“One night, then. I just want one night of sleep.”

“Plus-” Sherlock’s voice cut out when John grabbed his lapels and pulled him close.

“Shut up, Sherlock.” John kissed him. “Just stop talking.”

Sherlock moaned into John’s mouth, his body relaxing as John’s hands rubbed up his chest, slipped under his coat and pushed it off his shoulders.

When John pulled away, Sherlock’s eyes fluttered open again. John chuckled. “Come to bed.”

“The… the cases…”

“Lestrade’s not burning anyone at the stake, and we can’t stop any demons tonight.” John’s fingers unbuttoned the suit jacket, pressed up and helped it slide to the floor. Sherlock’s breath whooshed out as he looked down at John.

“That’s hardly fair.”

John gave him an innocent look. “I’m certain I’ve no idea what you’re talking about, mate.”

Sherlock’s hands clutched at John’s shoulders as he swallowed hard. “I’m in over my head, aren’t I?”

John growled as he buried his face against Sherlock’s neck, breathing in his scent. “More than you’ll ever know.”

“Good thing you’re here, then.”

Sherlock twisted to look him in the eyes again as John’s face turned up slowly. “Yeah.” John let his fingers snake into Sherlock’s curls. “Come to bed.”

Sherlock looked on the verge of protesting, but John’s gaze turned hard, and Sherlock shuddered against him. He nodded, and John kissed him again, pulled him along down the hall and kicked the door closed behind them.

Sherlock stood by the bed, fingers working at the buttons on his shirt until John growled in warning. He looked up, then let his hands fall away slowly as he stood up straighter. John nodded once, unbuttoning his own shirt quickly and tossing it at the corner that housed the hamper. He stepped in front of Sherlock, fingers working the buttons slowly as he kissed and licked the inches of skin each button revealed.

“Do you know how much trouble you are?” John’s teeth scraped over Sherlock’s stomach as he pulled the shirt tails out of his trousers. “How much easier my life would be if I just let them all do their worst?”

Sherlock moaned and panted as John popped the button on his trousers, tugging the fly open and shoving them over his hips. “You’d be… bored.”

John chuckled against Sherlock’s thigh as he pushed him back onto the bed and pulled his trousers off his legs completely. “And that’s a fair trade off, is it? You being a colossal pain in my arse so that I’m not sitting at home with nothing to do?”

He stood up, looking down at Sherlock sitting on the edge of the bed in just his pants. Sherlock looked up and him and smirked. “Yes.” Sherlock’s hands were on John’s belt, undoing the clasp and pulling at the button on his trousers and then shoving them down his legs to pool on the floor.

Sherlock leaned forward, pressing his face against John’s stomach, licking along the edge of his pants, and John growled again, fingers tangling in Sherlock’s hair and pulling him closer.

“ _Jesus_ , Sherlock, you can’t-” John gasped as Sherlock’s mouth moved over his still-covered cock, which was hard and beginning to leak. “- _oh_ , you can’t just mouth-off to the queen of the London hive-”

“I knew I could solve her case,” Sherlock said, nuzzling against John’s hip and groin. “Knew it would get more interesting cases when I did.”

“ _Fuck_.” John bit his lower lip as one of Sherlock’s hands joined his mouth, palm rubbing along John’s cock as his mouth closed over the head through John’s briefs, and _holy shit that feels good_. “You did… did all that… to get _interesting cases_?”

Sherlock hummed against John, causing John to buck forward against his face.

“I ought to walk out of here and never look back.”

Sherlock’s eyes rolled up to look at John as he peeled the briefs down. He smiled, then licked his lips and closed them over the head of John’s prick, slid them down slow, slow, until Sherlock’s lips hit his base and John was leaning his weight on Sherlock’s shoulders, trembling and making breathy noises.

Sherlock began to suck at him, cheeks hollowed and tongue rubbing back and forth and throat clenching. He could feel John’s fingernails - always clipped down, carefully trimmed and kept neat - digging into his skin. He remembered the first time they’d fallen into bed, things getting rough and heavy and him worrying for a moment that John might turn him accidentally. John had laughed without sounding unkind, and told him that while vampires were created, werewolves were born - nothing to transmit. Sherlock had since encouraged him to scratch and bite whenever the mood took him enjoying the feeling of the marks that lingered for days.

John cried out, incoherent and wordless, and Sherlock hummed before pulling off and scooting back onto the bed. John wobbled, looking dazed as he opened his eyes to see Sherlock leaning against the headboard. Sherlock grinned, and John narrowed his eyes, knees bending as he kicked off his pants just before he sprang onto the bed.

Sherlock didn’t move.

John landed right over him, stretched onto his feet and hands, staring down into Sherlock’s eyes. Sherlock arched one brow as he asked, “That the best you can do?”

John smirked, grabbed the waistband of Sherlock’s pants, and _yanked_. The ripping sound was loud, and Sherlock twitched at the feeling of the fabric violently pulling away from his skin, arched and sucked in a sharp breath and let his eyes flutter closed as John pressed against him now. John’s tongue flicked out at one nipple, then the other, and Sherlock groaned.

“ _God_ , Sherlock…”

John reached over him to the bedside table, pulled the lube of out the drawer and kissed him as he slicked up his fingers and looked into his eyes and said, “I love you.”

Sherlock licked his lips and opened his mouth, which was when John’s fingers slipped down to brush against his hole. Sherlock squirmed and gasped against the cold.

John teased him, pressing in ever so slightly before pulling back out, in and out, in and out, working a steady rhythm with just the tips of two fingers, until Sherlock was clawing at his back and shoulders and begging wordlessly. John kissed him again, and pressed his fingers in further.

He held them there for a moment, letting Sherlock adjust to the feeling before he moved his hand back. When he pushed his fingers back in, he curled them slightly, nipping at Sherlock’s neck.

“You drive me mad, you know that?”

Sherlock keened as John’s fingers searched out his prostate.

“Absolutely, completely mad.”

He flicked his fingertips against the little bump, and Sherlock’s mouth fell open as his head slammed back, fingers digging into the mattress as a deep flush bloomed prettily over his skin.

John pulled his fingers out and added a third one, spreading them carefully as the moved. “One of these days…” John closed his eyes as his hand moved. “You’re going to miscalculate, you’re… you’re going to end up pissing off someone I can’t protect you from!”

Sherlock’s hands were on John’s arms now, eyes wide as John looked at him again.

“Do you understand?”

Sherlock nodded, and John grabbed the lube, slicked up his cock and pushed in, carefully at first, then hard and sudden. Sherlock’s legs locked around his hips, pulled him closer. “John…”

“I can’t keep you safe all the time.” John started moving, hips pressing forward slowly before pulling back quickly. “Do you know what it would do to me if you were hurt? Or turned by something out there? Or…” John leaned forward, pressed his face against Sherlock’s chest and inhaled as his hips sped up.

Sherlock locked his legs around John’s hips a little tighter, and with the right leverage, pushed them over. John yelped as he landed on his back, Sherlock on top of him now, riding him. He braced himself on the headboard, chest heaving with exertion and lust.

“You have no idea the effect your protective streak has on me, do you?” Sherlock licked his lips as he looked down at John, who was gripping his hips hard enough that Sherlock was certain he’d have bruises in a few hours. John looked up at him, mouth slacked open and pupils wide. Sherlock grinned, and continued. “The way you look at me when you think someone’s put their hands on me - it’s worth everything, John.”

“ _Christ_ , Sherlock.”

“I hate being called your pet. But I _am_ yours.”

John groaned, bucking up to meet Sherlock each time he slid down John’s cock. Sherlock kisses him then, lips moving desperately against his, hands gliding over his chest, fingers scratching along his abdomen and collarbone before they dug into John’s arms, urged him on faster, harder, _more_. John was beyond words now, panting and grunting and moaning against Sherlock’s skin as he thrust up into him. Sherlock turned his head, bit John’s neck hard enough to leave his own mark, then sucked hard.

John came with a shout, grinding Sherlock down onto his lap. Sherlock reached down and gripped his cock, jerking himself to completion all over John’s stomach before collapsing on top of him, breath whooshing out of him.

“And you’re mine, too.”

John’s hands traced random patterns into the skin of Sherlock’s back as he kissed the top of Sherlock’s head. “Yeah.”

Sherlock closed his eyes. “Is your _Alpha Male Ego_ suitably stroked?”

John snorted. “With pillow talk like that, why would I ever want to leave this bed?”

Sherlock’s chuckle rumbled through his chest.

They lay there quietly for a moment, hands petting and soothing in the afterglow.

John’s the one to break it. “Promise me something?”

Sherlock’s head scraped against his chest until their eyes met. “Perhaps.”

John looked back at him steadily. “I’’d ask you to be more careful, but I know you won’t. So just… promise me you won’t go out there without me.” His fingertips traced along Sherlock’s cheek bone. “You may not like being called my _pet human_ , but sometimes it’s the only thing I know that will keep you alive.”

Sherlock closed his eyes and hummed. “I suppose I can bear it.” He shifted off of John and onto the bed with a sigh, then took John’s hand in his and brought his fingers up to kiss them one by one.

“Thank you.”

Sherlock’s fingers laced between John’s and squeezed.

**Author's Note:**

> [ **Title from, "Counting Bodies Like Sheep To The Rhythm Of The War Drums," by A Perfect Circle.** ]


End file.
